Broken Teacups
by The Unforgivable
Summary: The continuing saga of Severus and Rebecca. Death Eaters, an excellent apology from Sirius Black, the death of two well-known Gryffindors, and a strong sleeping potion. - IN PROGRESS
1. Fear

Broken Teacups by The Unforgivable

NOTE: This is the prequel/sequel to Slytherin Girl. Please read that first. Assume all usual disclaimers. As much as I wish I had been the one to come up with the idea of Harry Potter and become rich and famous off of it, I didn't. All the best characters (except for Rebecca Morgain) belong to J. K. Rowling. The definitions came from _Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc._ I had to modify them slightly.

Chapter 1

****

fear \Fear\, n. [OE. fer, feer, fere, AS. fær a coming suddenly upon, fear, danger; akin to D. vaar, OHG. f[=a]ra danger, G. gefahr, Icel. f[=a]r harm, mischief, plague, and to E. fare, peril. See Fare] 1. A painful emotion or passion excited by the expectation of evil, or the apprehension of impending danger; apprehension; anxiety; solicitude; alarm; dread. 

Note: The degrees of this passion, beginning with the most moderate, may be thus expressed, -- apprehension, fear, dread, fright, terror. 

Fear is an uneasiness of the mind, upon the thought of future evil likely to befall us. --Locke. 

Where no hope is left, is left no fear. --Milton. 

2. (Script.) (a) Apprehension of incurring, or solicitude to avoid, God's wrath; the trembling and awful reverence felt toward the Supreme Being. (b) Respectful reverence for men of authority or worth. 

I will put my fear in their hearts. --Jer. xxxii. 40. 

I will teach you the fear of the Lord. --Ps. xxxiv. 11. 

render therefore to all their dues; tribute to whom tribute is due . . . fear to whom fear. --Rom. xiii. 7. 

3. That which causes, or which is the object of, apprehension or alarm; source or occasion of terror; danger; dreadfulness. 

There were they in great fear, where no fear was. --Ps. liii. 5. 

The fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. --Shak. 

for fear, in apprehension lest. "For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more." --Shak. 

The wind whipped around Rebecca, slicing through her heavy robes and cloak as if they were gauze. She repressed a shudder. To shudder would be to seem weak. Weakness was the last thing she wanted to appear to these people.

_How did I ever let him talk me into this again?_ she wondered, fighting another shiver. They were standing shoulder to shoulder in a circle. Hidden from the watching eyes of the Death Eaters, she felt for Severus's hand among the black folds of his cloak. His face remained impassive, but he gently squeezed her fingers.

The Dark Lord spoke suddenly, his voice sending chills down Rebecca's back. "Well, I see you are here again." Rebecca forced herself to look straight into his eyes. "Perhaps you are considering joining, then?" His voice was taunting, but she forced herself to remain calm. He knew as well as she did she would never join.

Because she was Lucius Malfoy's cousin, best friends with Severus Snape, close friends with many other Death Eaters, and a second cousin to Voldemort himself, the Dark Lord permitted her to attend a few of the Death Eater's meetings without forcing her to join. There was a blood bond that he assumed would keep her from betraying him. By the same token, he could not harm her - yet. She had not yet dared to test this bond, but she knew with grim certainty that the day would come. 

She was in a precarious position, she knew, dancing on the edge of a razor blade. If she were to fall. . .But she violently forced her thoughts away from the danger. She narrowed her eyes and stared at Voldemort's forehead. She couldn't force herself to meet his eyes, nor would she let herself drop her gaze.

Voldemort's scathing voice cut through her as effectively as the wind had. "Or perhaps you need persuading." Rebecca felt numb, but it was not from the cold. His form of persuading would not be pleasant, to say the least.

Unceremoniously, the Dark Lord flicked his wand at her. The word "crucio" fell from his lips and landed on Rebecca's ears, burning like fire. The pain wrenched her hand from Severus's. Distantly, she could hear her ragged screams, like that of a tortured animal, _which_, she thought hazily, _I am_. She felt that she was being burned at the stake, drawn and quartered, drowned, and suffocated all at once.

Suddenly, the pain receded. Rebecca found that she had collapsed to the ground. Every nerve in her body tingled unpleasantly. Her head throbbed. Her skin crawled. With a blinding flash, she realized that one tiny portion of her body did not hurt at all. A tiny sliver of her ring finger, where Severus's ring sat. She touched the ring gingerly, and was barely able to stifle a yelp. It was white hot.

There was no time to ponder this startling realization, though. Voldemort pointed his want at her again. She felt herself rising to her feet against her will. The Dark Lord smirked. "Now you see what pain I can inflict on those who choose not to follow me, maybe you will think better of joining. I can do much worse."

Something inside of Rebecca flamed up suddenly. Before, she had been afraid of Voldemort, not knowing the extent of his powers. She knew, now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was lying. He could do nothing worse to her. He could torture her friends, of course, and the mental anguish would probably drive her insane, but as far as his ability to inflict physical pain on her, he had reached his limit. She had survived his worst. Even death could never be as painful.

She drew herself up to her full height, removed her mask, and spoke calmly, "Personally, I prefer tickling charms." She knew it was a dumb thing to say, but behind the haze of pain, her mind was working slowly.

Briefly, a fleeting trace of shock flickered across the Dark Lord's face. "You reject my offer, then cousin?" His voice was dangerous, but her fear of him was completely gone. She pulled out her wand. Across the circle, she saw several faithful Death Eaters reach for theirs.

Breaking from the circle, she stepped towards Voldemort. three Death Eaters moved as if to do the same, but Voldemort held up his hand to stay them.

The corners of Rebecca's mouth twisted into a strange leer. "Your offer?" she whispered. "You make it sound as if you were asking me to go to bed with you."

Voldemort raised his wand, but Rebecca struck out at him with hers, knocking it out of his hand to the ground. "You may know more magic than me, but you have forgotten that there are ways of doing things without it." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Death Eater raise his wand, but again Voldemort stopped him.

"Let her try and kill me. I think you will find it is impossible," he told the Death Eater.

A sudden thought struck Rebecca. _Death. He has such an obsession with death. I can't kill him, not now. But I can be his undoing. Why did it never occur to me before? I know the only thing he is afraid of. He is afraid to die. Not by my hand. He knows I can't harm him , but he is afraid to die. It is in his very name._ She smiled at the Dark Lord. A friendly smile. Every person in the circle froze. the look on her face was unnerving. 

"Perhaps I won't be the one to kill you. That doesn't matter. Maybe no one will kill you. Maybe you will die quietly in your sleep, an ugly, unloved old man." Each word she spoke twisted the Dark Lord's features further into - was it pain? Or fear? "You will die. You can run forever, but Death will find you in the end. I bear you no malice. I won't spill you secrets to the ministry or hunt you down, have no fear of that. But be a afraid for you life all the same. You will never reach immortality."

With those words, she dissapperated.


	2. Doubt

Chapter 2

****

doubt \Doubt\, v. i. [imp. & p. p. Dou'ted; p. pr. & vb. n. Doubting] [OE. duten, douten, OF. duter, doter, douter, F. douter, fr. L. dubitare; akin to dubius doubtful. See Dubious.] 1. To waver in opinion or judgment; to be in uncertainty as to belief respecting anything; to hesitate in belief; to be undecided as to the truth of the negative or the affirmative proposition; to b e undetermined. 

Even in matters divine, concerning some things, we may lawfully doubt, and suspend our judgment. --Hooker. 

To try your love and make you doubt of mine. --Dryden. 

2. To suspect; to fear; to be apprehensive. [Obs.] 

Syn: To waver; vacillate; fluctuate; hesitate; demur; scruple; question. 

A few hours after the gathering, Rebecca was sitting in front of the fire in her flat. Her flatmate, Gabby, was out for the evening, so Rebecca was undisturbed. Her thoughts carried her freely.

Perhaps she had been rash; perhaps she would have done better to simply say nothing. It was strange, though, how her fear of Severus's master had left her when she realized that his one fear was something she herself had no qualms about: dying. It was even in his name. _Voldemort_. Latin for _flight from death._ So his entire purpose was to become immortal.

She turned this over in her mind. What, then, if he reached it? Surely, he would never share his secrets with his followers.

_Why,_ she wondered abruptly, _does he have to kill so many innocents?_ He was creating strong ties between himself and so many people. Was he, in essence, stealing their lives?

She shook her head. She had so many ideas on the subject, but her thoughts were jumbled up, and she was making no sense, even to herself.

She forced herself to get up and do something, anything to take her mind off what she really wanted to think about: Severus. He had brought her to those gatherings. What would Voldemort do to him?

The tea kettle on the stove in the kitchen began to whistle. She moved into the kitchen, lifted the tea kettle off the stove, and poured the boiling water into a teacup with a few tea leaves.

As she moved towards her chair by the fire again, the clock struck on the mantelpiece, startling her. She dropped her teacup, spilling scalding water down her front and smashing the cup to bits. She swore, using words that would have made any sailor's ears burn.

"Maybe now isn't a good time?" asked Severus's voice behind her. She swung around.

"It's a good thing I already dropped my tea!" she shouted. "Otherwise I would have thrown it at you." She saw the expression on his face, then. His eyes were twinkling, and his mouth threatened to curve into a smile.

"You made quite an impression on the Dark Lord," he told her. "He asked that if any Death Eater was to encounter you, we not kill you, but bring you to him alive. His suggestion was to use the imperious curse."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "What is that?" she asked. "Isn't that what-"

Severus cut her off. "What was used on hundreds of innocent witches and wizards during Grindalwald's reign of terror, to make them perform unspeakable acts which they otherwise never would have committed? Yes."

He began to pace up and down the room. "It seems to me that there should be a way to fight it, though. I've been working on it for quite some time. Of course, I can't test my theories. I have no one to put the spell on me."

Rebecca said softly, "I can."

Severus shook his head. "I don't want you to get involved."

Rebecca stepped into his path. "Too late. I'm on Voldemort's most wanted list, I'm related to a Death Eater, and engaged to the most brilliant mind of our time. Now _tell me how I can help!"_

He had stopped pacing right in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders. "You're right." His eyes twinkled. He gently pulled a strand of her hair out of it's braid. "I'm trying to protect you, and all I'm doing is putting you in more danger."

She smiled at him, and slid her fingers into his hair, pulling his head towards her. "Teach me, Master." She kissed him gently. His arms slid around her waist.

"Lesson one," he whispered huskily. "How to manipulate the teacher." She smiled, but freed herself from his grasp and moved in front of the fire to dry the tea from her robes.

He sat in her chair, and explained the intricacies of the Imperious Curse, and his theories on how to fight it.


	3. Concentration

Chapter 3

****

concentration \Con`cen*tra"tion\, n. [Cf. F. concentration.] 1. The act or process of concentrating; the process of becoming concentrated, or the state of being concentrated; concentration. 

Concentration of the lunar beams. --Boyle. 

Intense concentration of thought. --Sir J. Herschel. 

2. The act or process of reducing the volume of a liquid, as by evaporation. 

The acid acquires a higher degree of concentration. --Knight. 

3. (Metal.) The act or process of removing the dress of ore and of reducing the valuable part to smaller compass, as by currents of air or water.

The next morning, Rebecca woke feeling hung over. Her head pounded, she felt sick to her stomach. The light streaming in the open window made her feel worse. She quickly drew the curtains over them.

"You and your aversion to light," said a high pitched voice behind Rebecca. Rebecca turned to find her flatmate Gabby standing there. Gabby was something of a sun-worshiper. She did not actually worship the sun, as some of Rebecca's friends did, but she was tan all year round, with peroxide blond hair. She was sickeningly thin and wore extremely revealing clothing.

Gabby was almost never home at night. She always spent the night with some boy or other. She was quite Rebecca's opposite. The two got along wonderfully, though. Rebecca liked having the flat quiet and empty at night, and Gabby liked having Rebecca gone at work all day so she could sleep. The two girls hardly ever saw each other.

"You think it's easy keeping my skin like this?" joked Rebecca. In the year since her graduation from Hogwarts, the faint tan she had obtained playing quidditch had disappeared completely. 

Gabby slouched against the doorway to Rebecca's room. "You all right?" she asked. "You look hung over."

"I _feel_ hung over," groaned Rebecca.

"What did you do last night?" A small smile was forming on Gabby's lips. "Don't tell me you actually went to a party?"

Rebecca grinned back. "No, I went to a meeting of the cult my fiancé is in. Then we came here and tried to think of a counter-curse for a mind control spell. then he made me tea, put a bunch of herbs in it and I went to bed." Everything she said was true, but Gabby would interpret it as sarcasm. She had laughed when Rebecca had first told her she was engaged. Naturally, Rebecca had no pictures of Severus to show Gabby, as in the few pictures she had, he was moving. That would not go over well with Gabby, a muggle. Rebecca had long ago given up on trying to convince her flatmate of Severus's existence. 

Gabby threw up her arms in surrender. "All right, all right. I give up. You don't have to tell me. I'm going to bed."

Rebecca stared at the spot where Gabby had been. "You just got home?" she called incredulously.

A slamming door was her only response. Shaking her head in amazement, Rebecca climbed out of bed. She was a night person herself, but to come home at - she glanced at the clock - nine o'clock in the morning? _Yikes! I'm going to be late!_ she realized, rushing for the door.

After sticking her head in the hall to make sure Gabby had gone to bed, Rebecca pulled her wand from under her mattress. _Living with a muggle has serious disadvantages,_ she grumbled inwardly, magically closing her door.

She then opened the door to her wardrobe and pushed the muggle clothes hanging there aside. Carved into the back of the wardrobe was a snake. It was a crude carving; Rebecca had done it herself with a penknife, but it worked as a portal to a magical room. She whispered the password, "parseltoung," and the back of the wardrobe slid silently open. She stepped through into a tiny room. Books were piled everywhere, stacks and stacks of boxes containing potions ingredients were heaped in one corner, and several robes, cloaks, and other wizarding wear hung on one wall. All this was illuminated by a floating candelabra in the centre of the room.

After she dressed, she dissapperated. Many times, Gabby had commented on how she never heard Rebecca leaving for work. Rebecca had asked if she would prefer her to stand in the foyer with a briefcase, shout, "I'm off, then, dear!" and slam the door behind her. Gabby had promptly thanked her for not doing this, though she often complained that Rebecca moved as silently as a cat.

"A bit distracted today, are we?" asked Merl, Rebecca's supervisor. Rebecca blinked. She had been lost in thought, not even realizing that she had not moved for a full minute since her apparition.

"Sorry, Merl," she apologized, reaching for the parchment he was holding out to her. Mentally upbraiding herself, she got to work. She had a right to be distracted, after all, but paying attention to her potion was vital. She worked for the Ministry of Magic, experimenting with different potions, most of which would be put to use by Aurors.

Once again, though, her mind was wandering. Last night, Severus had told her that Voldemort had forbidden him to see her again, unless it was to capture her and bring her to Voldemort himself. Of course, she had had no choice but to ask him to keep himself out of danger of the Dark Lord's wrath and stay away from her. He would not be coming to visit her again unless it was vital.

She sighed aloud and tried once again to focus on the basilisk venom she was measuring. If she spilled any. . .

Severus had taught her the properties of basilisk venom in sixth year. They had been holed up in a corner of the library together. . .

She forcefully snapped her mind back to the present. Why was she thinking of him like this? He had never interfered with her work before. Was it because now, more than ever, she was afraid for his life? _Why did I have to get so mad at Voldemort last night? Why the hell did he have to go and join the Death Eaters anyway? What was I thinking, letting him?_ she wondered. Now they were both in danger, because of her. Obviously, Voldemort thought her weak, or he would not have allowed her to leave alive, but he could be plotting something sinister. . .

"Keep your mind on your work, girl!" she yelled aloud.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." It was Merl, looking concerned. "If you can't focus, take the day off, Beck. We don't need you blowing up the building."

With a sigh, Rebecca dissapperated again.


	4. Relief

Chapter 4

****

relief \Re*lief"\ (ree-leef"), n. [OE. relef, F. relief, properly, a lifting up, a standing out. See Relieve, and cf. Basrelief, Rilievi.] 1. The act of relieving, or the state of being relieved; the removal, or partial removal, of any evil, or of anything oppressive or burdensome, by which some ease is obtained; succour; alleviation; comfort; ease; redress. 

He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, That, where it seizes, all relief is vain. --Dryden. 

2. Release from a post, or from the performance of duty, by the intervention of others, by discharge, or by relay; as, a relief of a sentry. 

For this relief much thanks; 'tis bitter cold. --Shak. 

3. That which removes or lessens evil, pain, discomfort, uneasiness, etc.; that which gives succour, aid, or comfort; also, the person who relieves from performance of duty by taking the place of another; a relay. 

4. (Feudal Law) A fine or composition which the heir of a deceased tenant paid to the lord for the privilege of taking up the estate, which, on strict feudal principles, had lapsed or fallen to the lord on the death of the tenant. 

5. (Sculp. & Arch.) The projection of a figure above the ground or plane on which it is formed. 

Note: Relief is of three kinds, namely, high relief (altorilievo), low relief, (basso-rilievo), and demirelief (mezzo-rilievo). See these terms in the Vocabulary. 

6. (Paint.) The appearance of projection given by shading, shadow, etc., to any figure. 

7. (Fort.) The height to which works are raised above the bottom of the ditch. --Wilhelm. 

8. (Physical Geog.) The elevations and surface undulations of a country. --Guyot. 

Syn: Alleviation; mitigation; aid; help; succor; assistance; remedy; redress; indemnification. 

The path was dim. Rebecca strained her eyes, trying to see where she was going. A fork of lightening split the sky. A low roll of thunder followed. Rather than fading away, though, it changed into a frantic tapping, and grew louder.

Rebecca sat up in bed and looked around, panting. The tapping continued. "Becca!" called Gabby, sounded frightened. She was standing outside Rebecca's door, knocking.

Tangling herself in the bed sheet, Rebecca tripped her way to the door and yanked it open. Gabby stood there, fully dressed, her eyes wild. She ducked into Rebecca's room and shut the door behind her.

"Rebecca," she whispered, "there's someone here to see you. Get dressed."

Rebecca reached for her bathrobe. "Who is it?" she asked, wondering who could possibly frighten her flatmate like this. Unless - she abruptly changed the direction of her thoughts. Voldemort would have no scruples about killing Gabby on sight.

Gabby shook her head. "I don't know, but he's terrifying. Oh, Becca, he's going to murder us or something. He's got long black hair and frightening black eyes-"

That was all Rebecca needed to hear. She raced out of the room with only one arm in the sleeve of her robe, leaving Gabby in her wake, staring after her in horror.

In the next room stood her best friend and fiancé, looking oddly out of place, dressed in muggle clothes, standing in a muggle room. She choked back a laugh and flung her arms around his neck.

A few nights ago, when they had returned from the Dark gathering, she had thought it was the last time she would see him for a long while. The suppressed laughter faded away in her throat. Voldemort must be planning something bit already. Worry began to seep into her brain unbidden. Slowly she stepped back and looked into Severus's face.

What she saw there confirmed her fears. His face was set in hard lines, but his eyes were glassy. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, Gabby broke the silence. "I'll make tea, then?" With a frightened backwards glance at Severus, she scurried into the kitchen. Rebecca smiled wryly.

"Well, at least now we'll have some privacy."

Severus shrugged. "We'll have to wipe her memory anyway. She can't know I was here."

A protest rose to Rebecca's lips, but she swallowed it. This _was_ serious then. She waved him into a chair and sat across from him.

He watched her strangely. Across his face various emotions flickered. Pain, fear, anger, even - was that _sorrow_? Blind panic rose up in her chest. Something was seriously wrong.

Finally, after an agonizing silence, Severus spoke. "You and Lily, you got pretty close, didn't you?" Rebecca's eyes widened, but she nodded.

"We get along better now, yes. I was her maid of honour at her wedding, and she made me her son's godmother."

Visions of Lily Evans's marriage to James Potter flashed behind Rebecca's eyes. Lily's white dress, the uncomfortable muggle friends and absent family, Sirius Black coming up to her and giving her a kiss. Now _that_ was something she would never forget.

She had been talking to Remus Lupin, trying to avoid Peter Pettigrew, who seemed more timid, but no less cruel. Remus had said "What do you think of Sirius?"

Rebecca had answered to the effect that she no longer hated him, but he hand never really done anything to make her love him. That was when she felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to find herself staring into the melting eyes of none other than Sirius Black himself.

He had taken her by the shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. She had been too stunned to even react when he said "I've been waiting to do that for eight years, but I was afraid Snape would curse me for it." He had then looked guiltily around and asked "He's not here now, is he?"

That had explained why Sirius and Severus had never gotten along. They were so similar after all.

Severus's gentle voice brought her back to the present. He murmured "would it be so awful if James and his son. . ." his voice trailed off. He captured her hand with his and held it tightly. "My life is forfeit for telling you this, but you have to know." His voice broke.

"What?"

"The Dark Lord called me to him, and when I arrived, he was having a conversation with that pet snake of his. Of course, I knew everything he said, but he didn't know that." Sarcasm was seeping into his voice. "I would make a fabulous double agent, wouldn't I?"

Rebecca was gripping his hand very hard. She opened her mouth, whether to scream or to comfort him, she never knew, because at that moment, Gabby returned, bearing a tea tray.

After a few minutes of Severus's icy stare, though, she quailed and announced she was going to bed. Rebecca hid her surprise. Gabby would usually be going out at this time, but she was obviously looking for an excuse to leave the room, and she would have to come perilously close to Severus to leave the flat.

Severus was gazing into his tea with an amused look on his face. "What's funny?" Rebecca demanded.

"She is so afraid of me, and tonight I decided to renounce my vows to the dark side."

Rebecca gasped and dropped her teacup. It shattered against the tabletop, and a brown puddle of liquid crept unnoticed across the tablecloth. Rebecca had flung herself, sobbing, into Severus's arms. She was so happy for her friend, and at the same time, she realized that his danger was now double.

She felt his hand gently resting on her waist, and lifted it to her lips. "Now what?" she murmured.

"I have to tell you why I made my decision."

She nodded. "I'm listening."

"So is your flatmate." He took her hand as they stood, and led her to the door, into the hall, and out into the street, where they dissapperated, apperating again in a clearing in the forbidden forrest.

A/N: Now you can see where the title came from, but I swear it was completely unintentional, my brain was stuck on the theme, so I just let it run with it. That can be dangerous.


	5. Revenge

Chapter 5

****

revenge \Re*venge"\, v. t. [imp. & p. p. Revenged, p. pr. & vb. n. Revenging.] [OF. revengier, F. revancher; pref. re- re- + OF. vengier to avenge, revenge, F. venger, L. vindicare. See Vindicate, Vengerance, and cf. Revindicate.] 1. To inflict harm in return for, as an injury, insult, etc.; to exact satisfaction for, under a sense of injury; to avenge; -- followed either by the wrong received, or by the person or thing wronged, as the object, or by the reciprocal pronoun as direct object, and a preposition before the wrong done or the wrongdoer. 

To revenge the death of our fathers. --Ld. Berners. 

The gods are just, and will revenge our cause. --Dryden. 

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius. --Shak. 

2. To inflict injury for, in a spiteful, wrong, or malignant spirit; to wreak vengeance for maliciously. 

Syn: To avenge; vindicate. See Avenge. 

"Are you sure it's safe here?" she whispered.

He nodded. "No sane person would come here in the dead of night. And I've put a fair amount of protection spells up, myself." Seeing her inquisitive look, he added, "I come here sometimes, to think."

The moonlight created a surreal feeling in the clearing. Severus paced back and forth, trying to collect his thoughts. Rebecca stood silently and watched. After a moment, he turned to face her. "I joined the Death Eaters because I thought the Dark Lord-" he struggled with the word "-Voldemort could give me power. All my life, I'd been powerless, at the mercy of those, like Potter, who chose to make my life a living hell."

He scowled at the ground. "It did just the opposite. I have the lives of the entire world in my hands and I can't stop my fiancée's best friends from being killed."

Rebecca cried out, and Severus moved forward to put his arms around her. "I have the power of death, but not of life, and I see now that life is indeed the greater power."

She pressed her face against his robes, willing herself to wake up. But she knew she would not. This was no nightmare. This was her life. Finally, she managed to choke out, in a shaking voice, "who is going to die, Sev?"

Tenderly, he brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes and murmured, "It's not official. The Death Eaters don't know about it, but I heard the Dark - that is, Voldemort telling his snake his plans to kill James and Harry Potter."

Suddenly, he released her and slammed his fist into a tree, cursing loudly. "I want Potter to suffer, not die! I want him to feel the pain of everything he ever did to us. I want him to grovel on his hands and knees before me, begging for forgiveness, forgiveness that I will never grant. Then I want him to live. I want him to suffer his whole life, just as I will!"

A ringing silence followed this proclamation. Rebecca stood frozen. Severus was talking more to himself than to her. Her heart ached. The man in front of her was her best friend, and he had vowed to repay every unkindness James Potter had ever done to her. He had taken steps to do this, and now, with one stroke, Voldemort was going to shatter all his work.

"If he only wants James-" she started, but Severus cut her off.

"He wants James and Harry, and Lily will never let that happen. When he strikes, all three will be dead. I don't care about their boy, but it will only cause you more pain to loose Lily now, and _I want Potter for myself_!"

"Harry is my godson," she reminded him.

"I know, I know," he moaned. "Yours and Black's. That b-" she cut him off before he could express his feelings about Sirius.

"Why, Severus? Why does Voldemort want them?" Severus only shook his head, and Rebecca knew he would tell her when the time was right.

After a moment's silence, Severus spoke again. "There's only one thing for it, then. I have to go to Dumbledore. You go to Lily!"


	6. Trust

Chapter 6

****

trust \Trust\, n. [OE. trust, trost, Icel. traust confidence, security; akin to Dan. & Sw. tr["o]st comfort, consolation, G. trost, Goth. trausti a convention, covenant, and E. true. See True, and cf. Tryst.] 1. Assured resting of the mind on the integrity, veracity, justice, friendship, or other sound principle, of another person; confidence; reliance; reliance. "O ever-failing trust in mortal strength!" --Milton. 

Most take things upon trust. --Locke. 

2. Credit given; especially, delivery of property or merchandise in reliance upon future payment; exchange without immediate receipt of an equivalent; as, to sell or buy goods on trust. 

3. Assured anticipation; dependence upon something future or contingent, as if present or actual; hope; belief. "Such trust have we through Christ." --2 Cor. iii. 4. 

His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed Equal in strength. --Milton. 

4. That which is committed or entrusted to one; something received in confidence; charge; deposit. 

5. The condition or obligation of one to whom anything is confided; responsible charge or office. 

[I] serve him truly that will put me in trust. --Shak. 

Reward them well, if they observe their trust. --Denham. 

6. That upon which confidence is reposed; ground of reliance; hope. 

O Lord God, thou art my trust from my youth. --Ps. lxxi. 5. 

7. (Law) An estate devised or granted in confidence that the devisee or grantee shall convey it, or dispose of the profits, at the will, or for the benefit, of another; an estate held for the use of another; a confidence respecting property reposed in one person, who is termed the trustee, for the benefit of another, who is called the cestui que trust. 

8. An organization formed mainly for the purpose of regulating the supply and price of commodities, etc.; as, a sugar trust. [Cant] 

Syn: Confidence; belief; faith; hope; expectation. 

In the morning, Rebecca stretched awake, relishing the feeling of being alive. Then the events of the night before flooded back through her mind. She had come home to find Gabby in her bed, still looking frightened in her sleep. Regretfully, she had cast an obliviate spell over the girl.

Then she had gone to her own bed, but sleep for her had been a long time coming. she had lain awake, pondering how she would break the news to Lily. She knew she could not tell James. He, of course, would never believe her, and would only drag her name down into infamy, have her labelled a Death Eater.

Now, as she prepared breakfast for herself, the full weight of what she would be doing that day settled on her. She would be placing her life, and Severus's on the line to save the life of a woman she had only become friends with, her godson, and a man who would gladly see her and her fiancé dead. She sighed heavily and sat down to eat.

A sudden knock on the door startled her out of her wits. She moved to open it, but it swung open before she reached it, and a hooded figure stepped into the room. Rebecca gasped, but the figure waved it's hand dismissively. It was a gesture she knew very well.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed, almost fainting with relief.

"Is anyone else here?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "Only my flatmate, but she's dead asleep."

"Where is she?"

Rebecca waved her hand in the general direction of Gabby's room. Lucius pulled out his wand and called in her direction, "_Somnus_." Lowering his wand, he added, "that should keep her asleep."

"Why are you here?" asked Rebecca. "I thought Voldemort basically wanted my head on a platter." She motioned him into a chair and resumed eating her breakfast. "I hope you don't mind. I haven't eaten yet."

Lucius pushed his hood back and shook his head. "The Dark lord is extremely angry with you for disputing his power. He does not, however, consider you a serious threat."

Pausing with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth, Rebecca murmured "but aren't you supposed to kill me on sight, or something?"

Lucius smiled, a thin, weak smile, and said, "You are my cousin and my friend. I will never betray you."

Rebecca set down her fork. "Don't promise me that. It could mean your life someday. What would Narcissa think of you dying for another woman?"

With a small laugh, Lucius told her "I don't think she would care, provided I left her a legacy." After a moment of pensive silence, he added, "I'm not even sure anymore why I married her."

"Because you wanted an heir."  
The matter of fact tone with which his cousin's made this statement caused Lucius's head to shoot up. She had seen what he had never told anyone. "I suppose you're right. I needed someone to carry on the name Malfoy. So I married a rich pure-blood. And I'm not unhappy. Ours was a marriage of convenience more than love, but it isn't all bad. I'm not sure I even believe in love anymore. I'm not sure I ever did."

"But when you look at people like the Potters-" Rebecca began.

"When I look at the Potters, I feel disgust," he spat. "they have never had a real problem in their whole lives. They never had oppressive fathers, bringing them up to hate mudbloods; they didn't have my Aunt Celeste, appearing out of nowhere with her daughter in tow, expecting their family to take care of her because her foul muggle husband had run out on her; they didn't have the pressure to uphold the family name, to be model Slytherins. . ." his voice trailed off.

Rebecca added quietly, "they also had each other to help them through the problems they did have, no matter how small. Everyone needs someone to care about them."

He studied her face. "Everyone's problems seem bigger to themselves than to anyone else's."  
She nodded and reached for his hand. "You'll pull through, Lucius. You always do. And I'll do whatever I can to help. . .short of murder."

Squeezing her hand, he muttered, "you'll only kill for Severus, hmm?"

She smiled back. "And don't you forget it, either. Stay on his good side."

A faint grin lifted the corners of his mouth. "You were a fool to fly off the handle the other day. You could have been a great asset to us."

"Us?"

With a heavy sigh, Lucius stood and began to pace. "Yes, 'us.' Myself, Igor Karkaroff, and a few others. We feel that the Dark Lord is gaining power but is withholding it from his faithful Death Eaters."

Rebecca's mind reeled. She would have to tell Severus this. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We don't know. We don't want to upset the Lord's power, you understand, only get a bit of if for ourselves."

__

Oh, she thought._ They're only talk. Stupid, blind fools. Can't they see that Voldemort cares nothing for them?_ But she kept her mouth shut.

Suddenly Lucius turned to her. "Swear," he demanded, "on all that's holy to you, that you will never breathe a word of this to anyone."

__

There go all my plans to tell Severus, she thought wryly as she murmured, "I swear." With a sigh, she banished her uneaten breakfast to the kitchen and added, "unless the life of someone I love is endangered by my keeping your secret." This was the same oath she had given Voldemort over a year ago when Severus had first dragged her to a Dark gathering.

Lucius obviously realized this, but as he had no choice, save to cast a memory charm over her, he nodded, and held out his hand. She shook it, and her hand tingled from the magical bond they had just sealed. 

"Why did you come here, in broad daylight, of all times?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. It's like you said, everyone needs someone to help them through, to be there for them. You've always been there for me. Even when I was so horrid to you at Hogwarts. It's too bad we're already related. You'd be more fun than Narcissa," he joked

"I'm only a half-blood," she joked back.

He cursed. "But you're related to one of the most powerful wizarding families in Europe! I should have stood up for you at school-"

"But you didn't. You were ashamed of our blood tie. I don't blame you," she hurried on, preventing him from protesting, "and I managed to find my true friends. Severus, Remus, you, and maybe even Sirius."

Lucius blinked. "Sirius _Black_?" he gasped.

"Do you know any other Sirius?"

"I thought you two hated each other!" he exclaimed, aghast.

"We did. But we've, er, reconciled our differences," she told him tactfully, avoiding again any mention of the wedding.

Lucius glared at the tabletop. "Even you, my only confidant, don't understand what it is to have no friend in the world."

"No," she said softly. "And neither do you."

"My friends are all Death Eaters," he spat. "They can help me in my quest for power, but they care nothing for me. Nothing."

Rebecca ran her hands over the tabletop. "I was talking about me, Lucius. I'm your friend, even if you don't want me. You can't get rid of me."

He smiled then, a genuine smile. "I'd better go." Pulling his hood up, he moved to where she sat and lightly kissed her cheek. Then he murmured "_finite incantatum_," pointing his wand at Gabby's room again, and dissapperated.

Rebecca sat, staring at the spot where her cousin had stood, until, yawning and stretching, Gabby emerged from her room.

A/N: I have mentioned how much I like Lucius Malfoy haven't I? Sorry to those of you who can't stand him. 


	7. Betray

Chapter 7

****

betray \Be*tray"\ (b[-e]*tr[=a]"), v. t. [imp. & p. p. Betrayed (-tr[=a]d"); p. pr. & vb. n. Betraying.] [OE. betraien, bitraien; pref. be- + OF. tra["i]r to betray, F. trahir, fr. L. tradere. See Trator.] 1. To deliver into the hands of an enemy by treachery or fraud, in violation of trust; to give up treacherously or faithlessly; as, an officer betrayed the city. 

Jesus said unto them, The Son of man shall be betrayed into the hands of men. --Matt. xvii. 22. 

2. To prove faithless or treacherous to, as to a trust or one who trusts; to be false to; to deceive; as, to betray a person or a cause. 

But when I rise, I shall find my legs betraying me. --Johnson. 

3. To violate the confidence of, by disclosing a secret, or that which one is bound in honour not to make known. 

Willing to serve or betray any government for hire. --Macaulay. 

4. To disclose or discover, as something which prudence would conceal; to reveal unintentionally. 

Be swift to hear, but cautious of your tongue, lest you betray your ignorance. --T. Watts. 

5. To mislead; to expose to inconvenience not foreseen to lead into error or sin. 

Genius . . . often betrays itself into great errors. --T. Watts. 

6. To lead astray, as a maiden; to seduce (as under promise of marriage) and then abandon. 

7. To show or to indicate; -- said of what is not obvious at first, or would otherwise be concealed. 

All the names in the country betray great antiquity. --Bryant. 

Rebecca apperated onto the Potters' front doorstep. She rang the bell and stood, petrified with fear. What would she do if James answered? Or if no one answered? She could not even begin to imagine which would be worse.

The door swung back, and Lily stood there, holding her infant son in her arms. She looked surprised to see Rebecca, but quickly invited her in, saying, "Don't worry, James isn't home. You won't have to talk to him. What's up? You look very pale. Are you all right?"

_How ironic, _thought Rebecca, _Voldemort's planning _her_ death, and she asks _me_ if _I'm _all right._ She only shook her head, saying "I'm fine."

While Lily made tea, Rebecca went over in her head what she wanted to say. When she spoke, though, it was not in the calm cool voice she had planned. "Lily, do you trust me?"

Lily looked startled at the question, but she only smiled and said, "I've never known you to lie, nor have you given me any reason _not_ to trust you."

Rebecca scoffed. "James would disagree."

"James can be a bit closed minded, Beck. He has a right. We aren't the same person, though."

Abashed, Rebecca fell silent for a few seconds before she plunged on. "You love James." It was more of an accusation than a question.

As she poured tea into Rebecca's cup, Lily's hands shook. "Of course I love James. What are you trying to say?"

Taking a deep breath, Rebecca whispered, "You have to trust me. Don't ask me any questions, because I will tell you everything I can. I don't know much, but I would never have come here was I not certain about what I'm telling you. Your husband's life and the life of your son are in danger. Voldemort is plotting to kill them. I don't know why or when, but I think I know how. There is a curse that he has developed. It kills instantly. It is unstoppable, and there is no counter-curse. We've looked for one, trust me." She closed her eyes, unable to meet Lily's stare any longer. "You probably have a while; even the Death Eaters don't know of this plan yet, but please don't wait. You've got to hide, leave town, transfigure yourselves, do _something_."

Sounding slightly breathless, Lily demanded, "If the Death Eaters don't even know, how do you?"  
"I can't tell you; you've just _got_ to believe me!" Rebecca opened her eyes. Lily was looking at her strangely.

"How do I know you're telling the truth? You could be a Death Eater yourself!" Panic was rising in Lily's voice.

"Lily!" gasped Rebecca, but Lily stood up, her eyes blazing, holding Harry protectively. Rebecca stood also. "Would you like to interrogate me? Prove that I'm who I say I am? Or does it not matter? Has James poisoned your mind against me? Will you raise Harry to think that his godmother is an evil person? Or will he even live for you to raise him? Will _you_ live? Lily, put aside your stupid Gryffindor pride and suspicions. I'm not asking you to tell me where you're hiding. I don't want to know. I don't want to leave any doubts in your mind that I could betray you. But mark my words, be careful who you chose to tell. One of your friends is a Death Eater." Using that as a dramatic exit line, Rebecca dissapperated.

Her heart ached. Betrayal was a familiar feeling by now, but her fellow Gryffindors having never been close friends, it had never been this painful. She wished she could have told Lily that Peter Pettigrew was the Death Eater, but she had sworn to Voldemort never to reveal his secrets unless someone she loved was in immediate danger by her keeping those secrets. The slight love she had been beginning to feel for Lily had been so obscured by the rage she felt at Lily's disbelief, the closest thing she had been able to say to Peter's name was "one of your friends."

She didn't know, even now, why she had been so angry. She had expected to be disbelieved. She supposed it had to do with the way Lily had held her baby, the look on her face - as if Rebecca might do something horrible to them.

She had apperated into her flat, at the same time wishing desperately that she could go to Hogsmeade. At least there, she could have a strong drink and the chance of running into a friend. But as she could count her friends on one hand, and her enemies took both hands, both feet, and them some, she felt it wiser to stay away from the magical community. Which was why she had taken a flat in muggle London, with a muggle flatmate, in the first place.

With a sigh, she entered the magical room behind her wardrobe and fished through her boxes until she found what she was looking for: a powerful sleeping potion. She drained the entire bottle, and barely made it to her bed before collapsing.


	8. Sleep

Chapter 8

****

sleep \Sleep\, v. t. 1. To be slumbering in; -- followed by a cognate object; as, to sleep a dreamless sleep. --Tennyson. 

2. To give sleep to; to furnish with accommodations for sleeping; to lodge. [R.] --Blackw. Mag. 

To sleep away, to spend in sleep; as, to sleep away precious time. 

To sleep off, to become free from by sleep; as, to sleep off drunkenness or fatigue. 

When she woke, Rebecca did not even bother getting out of bed. _After all, what's the point?_ she asked herself. _A girl I thought was becoming my friend doesn't trust me, my fiancé is turning himself in as a Death Eater and will probably rot in Azkaban, and I've just done something that will make Voldemort even madder. Well, let him kill me! I'm not afraid to die. It's got to beat this hell to pieces._

She looked around the room. Spears of light shone through between the cracks in the curtains. It was late. She tried to remember what day it was. _I went to see Lily on Saturday, so it should be Sunday now. Unless_, the thought struck her,_ unless I took too much of the sleeping draught. _She had no idea what day it was. It could be Tuesday. So what if she was missing work? Merl had told her to take some time off anyway.

Tears welled up involuntarily in her eyes. She pulled the bed sheet over her head and sobbed into her pillow. She had no idea why she was crying.

"Loosing a friend can be hard," said a soft voice. Rebecca cried out in surprise. Sirius Black was standing at the foot of her bed. "James told me you and Lily had a fight."

He sat next to her on the bed. She choked out, "Why are you here? And how did you get in?"

He chuckled. "To answer your second question first, I apperated. The first is a bit more complex. I came because I'm worried about you, mainly. I know you haven't thought much of me in the past, but. . ." he paused to collect his thoughts.

Rebecca broke in, "I forgave you already, Sirius."  
"But not James?"

"Not James. And never Peter."

He frowned. "I wish you could see James the way I do, Beck. He's so happy, so full of the love of life. All those sappy things. Sometimes I think his life is just all one big game. And his baby, oh, what a wonderful child. I never though I'd hear myself say this, but it's been years since we graduated, I'm no longer eighteen, and I almost want a child of my own. We have a beautiful godchild, Rebecca." He paused, and a predatory grin spread across his face. "Just think what a beautiful child we could have."

She grabbed up a pillow and smacked him over the head with it. He laughed and wrested it away from her, then proceeded to pin her down on the mattress and tickle her. She screamed with laughter and kicked at him, but he artfully dodged her foot and kissed her cheek. "I love you too," he told her, then added as he released her, "But I know you're engaged to Snape."

"You say that as if I were volunteering to go live in Azkaban."

He shuddered. "Ugh. I hate to think of that place. I wish it didn't exist. But I suppose we have to have someplace to ship Dark wizards and witches."

Their eyes met, and she murmured, "Everyone deserves a second chance, Sirius."

Sirius sighed heavily. "I suppose if you can give me one, I can give Snape one. But I don't pretend to like the idea."

Rebecca smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate you coming. What day is it, by the way?"

"Sunday."

She stared at him. "You mean, with all the potion I took I was only asleep for one night? Impossible!"

With a wry smile, he corrected her. "One _week_. You have a real unobservant flatmate, by the way. She still hasn't noticed that you haven't woken."

"Then how did you know-?"

"Your boss was worried when you didn't show up for work on Monday. Said you're usually very dedicated and hardworking." He shuddered at the thought of working hard. "Anyway, he dropped by and found you. Your flatmate wasn't even home. He said you weren't in any danger, but the only thing to do was let you sleep it off." She still looked quizzical, so he continued, "When Remus heard about your fight with Lily, he went to Merl to ask where you lived. Told me what happened."

"He told you what my fight with Lily was about?"

"Nope. He didn't know. Even James didn't know. Lily wouldn't tell. Blimy!" he exclaimed when she burst into tears. All her work had come to naught. She had lost her friend for nothing.

She wished she could tell Sirius what had happened, but as he wasn't in danger, her oath to Voldemort put paid to that idea. She cursed herself. It would have been better to become a Death Eater. At least then she could talk, although it would probably mean her life.

Her only comforting thought was that by now Severus must have gone to Dumbledore, who would find some way to protect the potters. Or at least Harry. With uncharacteristic bitterness, she found herself thinking how it would serve the Potters right to have the _avada kedavra_ curse put on them. Being around Severus must be wearing off on her.


	9. Friendship

Chapter 9

****

friendship \Friend"ship\, n. [AS. fre['o]ndscipe. See Friend, and -ship.] 1. The state of being friends; friendly relation, or attachment, to a person, or between persons; affection arising from mutual esteem and good will; friendliness; amity; good will. 

There is little friendship in the world. --Bacon. 

There can be no friendship without confidence, and no confidence without integrity. --Rambler. 

Preferred by friendship, and not chosen by sufficiency. --Spenser. 

2. Kindly aid; help; assistance, [Obs.] 

Some friendship will it [a hovel] lend you gainst the tempest. --Shak. 

3. Aptness to unite; conformity; affinity; harmony; correspondence. [Obs.] 

Those colours . . . have a friendship with each other. --Dryden. 

There was no mention of the Potters from Voldemort for a long time. Rebecca began to almost believe that the Dark Lord had changed his mind. Except that she still lived in Muggle London, her life began to take on an aspect of normalcy.

There were still the clandestine meetings with Severus, of course. Voldemort was still acting amused at her angry outburst, but she did not doubt that he would not hesitate to kill her on sight.

Her days stretched, long and uneventful, before her. She now had time to ponder something that had been nagging at her since her confrontation with Voldemort. Her ring. When he had cast the crucitus curse on her, the tiny circle of her finger where the ring had been had been untouched. Gingerly, she rubbed the tip of her right index finger, where the burn she had gotten touching the ring was just starting to fade.

She sank into a chair and held her hands out in front of her. The ring had somehow absorbed part of Voldemort's curse, protecting her. A sudden thought occured to her. _Where did Severus get this ring?_ If it had come from someone else, then it was likely that it contained a protection spell, but if it was new. . .

She let her mind wander over the possibilities. If it was new, either Severus had put a protection spell on it, the trust charm he had used to shield the Slytherin crest from those who would betray them had produced these unexpected results, or there was something else, something more powerful than the two of them.

Had their love for each other manifested itself in the ring? Or was the ring made from blessed or cursed metal? In Severus's years of making potions, had he splashed just the right combination of ingredients on it to produce those effects? Rebecca's head was beginning to ache with the possibilities.

Suddenly, a familliar voice rang out. "Rebecca! You're awake! Talk to me!" Rebecca turned, surprised, to the fire, where Remus Lupin's head hovered.

Smiling, Rebecca slid out of her chair onto the floor to talk to him. "I've been awake for several days now, Remus. I was only asleep for a week. It's not like I took Sleeping Death or something."

Remus frowned. "You might as well have. I almost thought I'd have to go to Snape for an antidote. I didn't believe Merl when he said you were fine."

Rebecca snickered, "I would have loved to see you begging Severus on your knees for a potion. Where have you been that you didn't know I was awake?"

"It was a full moon, remember?"

"Oh," Rebecca winced. How could she forget something like that? Now that she and Severus had released their wolfsbane potion to the public, she no longer had to brew monthly batches for her friend, but she still should have remembered.

Seeing the look on her face, Remus said softly, "It's all right. You were a bit, er, distracted."

She blew a strand of hair out of her face and replied "Did Lily ever tell anyone what I said to her?"

Remus's head shook, almost comically. "No. James is worried, though. He is even thinking about coming to see you."

Glaring at the floor, Rebecca spat, "It won't do him any good. I couldn't tell him if I wanted to. Which I don't. I can't tell anyone. It doesn't matter anymore." Her voice was full of venom and tears. Deep down she loved Lily, but at the moment, she was so angry with her for accusing her of being a Death Eater, for not knowing her, that her love was almost buried.

After a long pause, she added, "Tell her to be careful, though, would you, mate?"

Remus nodded, his disembodied head bobbing strangely, then he murmured, "take care of yourself," and disappeared from her fireplace.

For several minutes, Rebecca sat, pensively watching the flames, irresolute, then she stood and walked into her room. Inside her magical closet, she donned her invisibility cloak and disapperated, reappearing just outside Hogwarts.


	10. Mystery

Chapter 10

****

mystery \Mys"ter*y\, n.; pl. Mysteries. [L. mysterium, Gr. fr. one initiated in mysteries; cf. to initiate into the mysteries, fr. to shut the eyes. Cf. Mute, a.] 1. A profound secret; something wholly unknown, or something kept cautiously concealed, and therefore exciting curiosity or wonder; something which has not been or can not be explained; hence, specifically, that which is beyond human comprehension. 

We speak the wisdom of God in a mystery. --1 Cor. ii. 7. 

If God should please to reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or some other mysteries in our holy religion, we should not be able to understand them, unless he would bestow on us some new faculties of the mind. --Swift. 

2. A kind of secret religious celebration, to which none were admitted except those who had been initiated by certain preparatory ceremonies; -- usually plural; as, the Eleusinian mysteries. 

3. pl. The consecrated elements in the Eucharist. 

4. Anything artfully made difficult; an enigma. 

The weather had been mild at her flat, but here the wind whipped around her, spraying a fine mist into her face, along with sharp strands of her hair. She spat them out and hurried through the gates. There was no time to stand and gaze with romantic longing at the silhouette of the castle against the tormented sky.

Inside the castle, Rebecca shook her head, flinging water droplets everywhere and causing the hood of her cloak to slip down. She quickly pulled it back up. It would have caused a bit of a panic if someone happened along and saw her head floating in the air. It would cause a double panic if it were someone who knew her from her student days; it had not been that long ago that she had graduated.

By the flickering torchlight, Rebecca made her way soundlessly down the corridor. It was a skill she had learned from Severus years ago.

"I can't believe Snape, that stupid-" here a string of harsh words were used to describe Severus, and two boys stepped into view. Rebecca held her breath and flattened herself against the wall.

The second boy grimaced, and added his own thoughts on their Potions Master, concluding with, "I swear, the stupid git had us make Putrid Potions today just so we'd have to clean them up in detention."

Invisible, Rebecca smiled. Severus was still in his classroom. She had been wondering how she would find his quarters, but she knew the way to the potions room well enough.

After the boys had passed her, she moved onward, to Professor Snape's room. Outside the door, she paused, listening. The scratch of a quill, the rustle of parchment, and occasional sigh. Apparently, his students were not doing so well.

She tapped softly and slid the door open, then leaned against the door to close it before unfastening her cloak and letting it slip to the floor. The look of shock on his face when he looked up and saw her standing there would have made supreme blackmail material.

Severus let out a strangled cry and jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he whispered. "Do you want us both killed?"

She frowned. "No. Not both of us. Just you." He sank back into his chair mumbling something inaudible about women's twisted senses of humour.

"I need you to tell me about this ring." She stretched out her hand.

They both stared at it for a moment before he asked, "What about it?"

She moved closer, and leaned against the edge of his desk. "Well, for starters, where did it come from?"

To her surprise, he snickered. "I knew you'd ask me that someday. Have my chair." He gallantly stood and offered her his seat. She sank into it, biting back the remark about chivalry and chauvinism being so similar. "I got it in a muggle thrift store. I don't know why I was there. Something drew me. The ring, I suppose. That's what I've always thought. It's like it was meant for me. I couldn't have been more than six, though, so it may have been just chance."

Rebecca smiled. "So it's either incredibly powerful or absolutely worthless, save for the value we place on it."

"Just so. And since when are you wont to be so poetic? 'Save for the value we place on it'?" Rebecca threw the first thing that came into her hand - a stack of parchment - at his head. He ducked, laughing, and caught her wrists, pinioning her to the chair in which she sat. "You are planning on picking those up for me, aren't you?" he demanded. She replied by kicking him in the shin. Something akin to anger flashed in his eyes, and he pressed her hard against the chair with a kiss. After a moment of struggling to free her hands, she gave up and allowed him to dominate her for a moment.

When the kiss ended, they were both breathless. "Would you like some tea? I can add a few special ingredients." He smiled in a predatory way, and she immediately agreed, and watched as he glided around the room, gathering ingredients, heating a cauldron full of water with a wave of his wand. He looked tired. In her preoccupation with the ring, she had not looked at him closely, but she did now. His cheeks were paler than usual; there were dark circles under his eyes; his normally sleek hair was dishevelled, and his robes looked ruffled. Nevertheless, he moved with a strange grace about the room.

_He's really at home here_, she realized. _Alone in the dungeons with his potions. This is what he lives for._ As if he had read her mind, Severus spoke.

"As you can see, I'm well adjusted to my job. I only wish those pathetic excuses for wizards would learn to appreciate potions. The fools think that magic is only what you do with a wand."

"There are all kinds of magic," she agreed, reaching for the tea he offered her, curling her fingers around the warmth of the cup. "For instance, my ring." She explained how it had protected her from Voldemort's crucitus curse.

"I gave you that ring from my heart. It's not a piece of jewellery you wear, but my soul, carved out of silver on your finger. I told you I would protect you from anything and everything. With my life if necessary."

"Stop this morbid talk! We're going to make it through this together. . ." She trailed off, noticing that he was leaning tiredly against his desk. She had never known him to slouch. It seemed a point of personal pride for him always to remain upright, even if he was dying on his feet. "Are you all right?"

He waved his hand dismissively. It reminded her of Lucius, but with a wave, he seemed to dismiss her entirely, not just her words. Severus sighed then, and slid into the chair next to her. His eyes were focused on something beyond the far wall, and his whole body slumped in defeat against hers.

"What's bothering you? Normally I would let you tell me in your own time, but either or both of us might be dead by tomorrow. Tell me."

"That's just it. I joined the Death Eaters to avenge you, and I've ended up putting your life in danger. Then I turned traitor to the Dark Lord and you're in even more danger. It seems everything I do only makes the situation worse." He wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled against her hair. "I hate this feeling of helplessness. I _hate_ it."

"You don't have to protect me, Severus. Or avenge me. That's all behind us."

The light in his eyes seemed to go out as he told her "No, it's not. It's only just begun."


	11. Death

Chapter 11

A/N: Well, well, well. New stuff for everyone. For those of you who have read this out of my notebook, the middle of this chapter is as far as I got. Right before the part about ashwinders. Everything after that is new for everybody! Big surprises in this chapter. I hate to spoil it for you but - the Potters die.

****

death \Death\, n. [OE. deth, deat, AS. de['a]; akin to OS. d, D. dood, G. tod, Icel. daui, Sw. & Dan. d["o]d, Goth. daupus; from a verb meaning to die. See Die, v. i., and cf. Dead.] 1. The cessation of all vital phenomena without capability of resuscitation, either in animals or plants. 

Note: Local death is going on at times and in all parts of the living body, in which individual cells and elements are being cast off and replaced by new; a process essential to life. General death is of two kinds; death of the body as a whole (somatic or systemic death), and death of the tissues. By the former is implied the absolute cessation of the functions of the brain, the circulatory and the respiratory organs; by the latter the entire disappearance of the vital actions of the ultimate structural constituents of the body. When death takes place, the body as a whole dies first, the death of the tissues sometimes not occurring until after a considerable interval. --Huxley. 

2. Total privation or loss; extinction; cessation; as, the death of memory. 

The death of a language can not be exactly compared with the death of a plant. --J. Peile. 

3. Manner of dying; act or state of passing from life. 

A death that I abhor. --Shak. 

Let me die the death of the righteous. --Num. xxiii. 10. 

4. Cause of loss of life. 

Swiftly flies the feathered death. --Dryden. 

He caught his death the last county sessions. --Addison. 

5. Personified: The destroyer of life, -- conventionally represented as a skeleton with a scythe. 

Death! great proprietor of all. --Young. 

And I looked, and behold a pale horse; and his name that at on him was Death. --Rev. vi. 8. 

6. Danger of death. ``In deaths oft.'' --2 Cor. xi. 23. 

7. Murder; murderous character. 

Not to suffer a man of death to live. --Bacon. 

8. (Theol.) Loss of spiritual life. 

9. Anything so dreadful as to be like death. 

It was death to them to think of entertaining such doctrines. --Atterbury. 

And urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death. --Judg. xvi. 16. 

Note: Death is much used adjectively and as the first part of a compound, meaning, in general, of or pertaining to death, causing or presaging death; as, deathbed or death bed; deathblow or death blow, etc. 

Syn: Death, Decease, Demise, Departure, Release. 

Usage: Death applies to the termination of every form of existence, both animal and vegetable; the other words only to the human race. Decease is the term used in law for the removal of a human being out of life in the ordinary course of nature. Demise was formerly confined to decease of princes, but is now sometimes used of distinguished men in general; as, the demise of Mr. Pitt. Departure and release are peculiarly terms of Christian affection and hope. A violent death is not usually called a decease. Departure implies a friendly taking leave of life. Release implies a deliverance from a life of suffering or sorrow. 

Rebecca sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cup of tea. She watched the loose leaves float in the amber liquid. She had never been much of a hand at divination, but it couldn't hurt to attempt to see the future.

A sudden pop behind her alerted her to someone's presence. She swung her head around. Severus stood where he had apperated. She jumped to her feet, sending her chair flying backwards, and sloshing her tea everywhere. 

She had been about to admonish him for apperating somewhere that Gabby might see him, but one look at his drawn face stopped her.

"It's tonight," he said tersely. She blinked, uncomprehending. "The Dark Lord just informed the Death Eaters that we are to destroy the Potters tonight."

"Oh," was all she could manage to squeak out.

He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the fireplace. She shook her head. "I don't have any floo powder. I can't keep it around. Gabby. . ." He reached into his robes and pulled out a small bag, into which he dipped his hand to sprinkle the glowing floo powder into the flames.

"Make sure you put out the fire when you get back," he told her. You don't want to come home and find your flat in flames. You have to watch for ashwinders." She nodded as he pushed her into the fire.

When they had both stumbled out of the fireplace, Rebecca was coughing from the soot she had managed to inhale. "I h- hate floo powder," she choked out. "What idiot invented it?"

"Probably the same idiot who thought brooms would be convenient modes of transportation," he replied, brushing soot off her emerald robes. None showed on his, which were black, as always.

As the tickle in her throat eased, Rebecca looked around, realizing fully for the first time where she was. Against one wall was a high mahogany bed, with rich green hangings. The walls were grey stone, but the room was warm and dry. She was in a world of mahogany and green velvet. Severus's bedchamber.

He noticed that she was staring with her mouth hanging open. The faintest trace of a smile flickered across his lips. "Surprised?" he asked.

She nodded. "I expected it to be bare, austere, spartan, boring. . .but it's not. It's _incredible._"

He raised an eyebrow. "In other words, you'd like to come back and. . .explore. . .it more closely at the first available opportunity." A predatory grin played across his face. "And let me just point out that the bed is by far the finest feature. But for now, we have more pressing matters."

Rebecca had forgotten why he had brought her here, but his words were a sudden, painful reminder. She frowned.

He gestured to a chair near the fireplace, into which she sank gratefully. He remained standing and began pacing back and forth. "Why do you always have to pace?" she snapped. "You're making me nervous."

"You should be nervous," he snapped back. "Your godson is about to die."

"He won't die! He can't! We have to do something!" She tried to rise out of her chair, but Severus put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back down. "Let me up!" she cried. "I have to do something!" Frantic, wild thoughts were chasing through her head. "I'll scream! You have to let me go!"

Severus's hand slapped across her face. Instantly she shut up. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You know I didn't mean to hit you. Oh, Rebecca, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "No, it's all right. I needed that."

Not smiling at the cliché, he knelt on the floor beside her chair and turned her head so he could examine her face in the firelight. "You're going to have a bruise, love. I'm sorry."

"If all I have is a bruise, then I'm luckier than Lily. She'll die for her son, to protect him. And then he'll die too. Oh, how could you have ever joined the Death Eaters?" Her voice broke sharply on the last work, and she dissolved into tears. "It's all my fault." He pulled her down onto the floor with him and held her in his arms as she sobbed.

Looking back years later, the only thing Rebecca could remember about the next few hours was the endless silence. Severus had, of course, gone with the Death Eaters to the Potters, leaving her in his chambers, alone. After fretting and pacing for what seemed an eternity, she had sunk into the chair by the fire, too tense to really relax, and attempted to sleep.

When the door banged open, she jolted out of her unhappy revere. Severus, looking haggard, disgusted, and amazed at the same time, swept in, followed by the Headmaster, looking unusually grave. She rose from the chair on trembling legs.

"You might want to sit, my dear," said Dumbledore softly. "Severus has an amazing story to relate."

Rebecca shook her head. "I've been sitting waiting all night. _Tell me what happened._"

With a sigh, Severus related everything that had happened at the Potters that night, finishing with, "the Dark Lord isn't gone forever, though, Beck. You know better than anyone the precautions he took against death."

She nodded slowly. "Then maybe we can find some way to prevent him from coming back."

"Maybe," shrugged Severus, but she could see the doubt in his eyes. Then the practical side of her mind quit working. Doubt, disbelief and fear washed over her, and from somewhere outside of her body she saw herself collapse. She saw Dumbledore and Severus rush forward to catch her. She heard her sobs of sorrow and relief. She saw Severus lift her and lay her in his bed. She saw Dumbeldore hand him a flask, from which he poured a few drops into her mouth. 

She came back into herself with a jolt, and felt the sleeping draught take effect. The world dissolved around her.


	12. Alone

Chapter 12

A/N: Last chapter of this story. Sad, sad, sad. But don't worry. There's a sequel. If I ever get it written. Many thanks to Naria for her wonderful pictures of Snape that she drew me a long time ago, which were the inspiration for part of this chapter. 

****

alone \A*lone"\, a. [All + one. OE. al one all allone, AS. [=a]n one, alone. See All, One, Lone.] 1. Quite by one's self; apart from, or exclusive of, others; single; solitary; -- applied to a person or thing. 

Alone on a wide, wide sea. --Coleridge. 

It is not good that the man should be alone. --Gen. ii. 18. 

2. Of or by itself; by themselves; without any thing more or any one else; without a sharer; only. 

Man shall not live by bread alone. --Luke iv. 4. 

The citizens alone should be at the expense. --Franklin. 

3. Sole; only; exclusive. [R.] 

God, by whose alone power and conversation we all live, and move, and have our being. --Bentley. 

4. Hence; Unique; rare; matchless. --Shak. 

Note: The adjective alone commonly follows its noun. 

A shaft of light slanted into Rebecca's eyes. She squinted them open. The light came from a candle, sitting ion the table beside the bed where she lay. On her other side was Severus. Asleep.

She watched as the flickering light played over his features. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable in his sleep. One hand was folded under his chin; the sheet only half covered his bare chest, and his hair was thrown back from his face. _He looks like a child,_ she marveled. _He's so beautiful._ So beautiful that a tear trickled from the corner of her eye and in a moment she was sobbing.

Sobbing for the death of a girl she had only begun to know. Sobbing for the death of her arch enemy. Sobbing with relief that the Dark Lord's reign was over at last. Sobbing from fear he might return one day. Sobbing for all the years she had spent friendless. Sobbing because she had been afraid to live in the magical community. Sobbing for the heavy burden placed upon them all. Sobbing for the man she loved. But most of all, sobbing for herself, for what she had become. An accomplice to the most unspeakable evil. A passive nonentity. Powerless to save Severus from himself. Weak. Fearless, but weak. She had traded her integrity for love, all but become a Death Eater herself, and she hated herself for it.

The sound of her tears woke Severus, and he wordlessly gathered her into his arms. She wept against his chest until she had cried herself to sleep again. 

When she woke a second time, she immediately noticed Severus. He lay with his head propped up on his hand, watching her. "Morning," he whispered.

"Is it?"

He nodded. "There's no sunlight, as we're in the dungeons." There was a trace of mockery in his smile. "But yes, it is morning."

She sighed heavily. "Tell me last night didn't happen."

"It would be cruel of me to let you think that." He sat up, and so did she. Gently he took her face between his hands. "It's all over, now, though. For a while, anyway. Dumbledore sent the Potter boy to live with relatives. The ministry is searching for Black-"

"Sirius?" she cried.

"Yes, Sirius Black. They think he was the Potters' betrayer. That fool Pettigrew has them all fooled." He threw back his head and laughed hysterically. "Even when good wins, evil manages to triumph."

Panic was beginning to seep into Rebecca's veins. "You've got to tell the Ministry! They'll send Sirius to Azkaban."

"I'm not telling them anything to save his hide. You tell them if it's so important to you." Rebeca was shocked.

"This is no time for petty jalousies!" She cried. "I can't tell them anything without implicating myself. You can keep an innocent man from going to Azkaban, Sev!"

Severus exploded. "He's not as innocent as you like to pretend, Rebecca. You're forgetting that he almost killed me in school. And how am I supposed to tell them anything without implicating _me_?"

"It was a _prank _Severus. Besides, you are guilty!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

All the emotion drained from his face as he took a step towards her. "You silly little girl. Do you really think I could be so petty as to heave an innocent man into Azkaban over a schoolboy grudge? Do you really think I have no conscience?" The calm with which he spoke was more terrifying than if he had screamed and threatened to curse her. She suddenly knew with chilling certainty, that he truly was a Death Eater.

"So they finally got you," she whispered. "I should have known you weren't strong enough to hold out against them. Look at you. Every inch the Death Eater. Evil incarnate. The Devil's advocate. A wanted man. The walking dead. Soulless." She stalked towards him as she spat the insults at him. His face was entirely impassive, but she could see each barb hit the target. His heart. She was doing irrevocable damage to his heart, but the disgust she felt for him, and for herself for believing in him, kept her from stopping. "I loved you. I thought you felt the same way. But you're incapable of love. Just like Potter said. You truly are-"

"-Without conscience." He finished for her. "I know." He turned in a swirl of robes and moved to the fire. There was a ringing silence in which Rebecca battled with herself, debating whether to take back what she had said, but as she opened her mouth to apologize, he spoke. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I never did love you. Perhaps I am incapable of love. Maybe you were just the first person to show me a bit of human kindness, and I mistook it for love. Perhaps we both just projected that into my feelings as well. After all, you never did care about what I was feeling, did you? All you needed was someone to listen to your pitiful whining about how bad life was; someone to snog when you were feeling bad; someone whose body you could use, you pathetic whore. I have a suggestion for you."

"I don't want to hear it."

He told her anyway. "Next time, why don't you _try _to make friends?"

"What would you know about friends?" she sneered. What he had said had surprised her more than hurt her, but as the meaning of his words sank in, she wanted nothing more than to lash back at him.

A frightening, evil smile crept onto his face. "I have friends, Rebecca. Friends in high places. Who would as soon kill you as look at you. Remember that before you cross me. They may be the scum of the earth, but what better for the likes of me?"

Those last words hurt her more deeply than anything he had said, because they were directed at the man she loved, rather than at her. 

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did."

She was stunned into silence. Because, of course, he was right. She had meant every word she had said, and so had he, and they both knew it.

After a moment, he tossed her wand to her. "Your flatmate'll be wondering where you are."

"I didn't-" she stopped herself.

"Goodbye, Becca." The use of such an endearing name froze her. She felt that when she turned and left the room, as she must do, she would leave half of her soul there, half dressed, and looking like a perfect devil. _Maybe this was for the best then_, she reasoned, _I can live without him. I'll prove it to him. . .to myself._ With all the calm and stoicism she could muster, she bade him farewell. "Goodbye, Sev. Severus."

When she had pulled the door to his chamber fast behind her, she slumped against it and sank to the floor, her body wracked with silent sobs. _Who am I kidding? I think my soul just committed suicide. _On the other side of the door, Severus had also slid to the floor, and was staring at his hands, feeling he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. He would remember forever the brittle dignity in her voice as she said his name for the last time. _I was wrong. I still have a heart. But she took it with her when she left. Funny how she made her own prediction come true. I'm every inch the Death Eater._

A/N: Well, on that cheerful note, my story ends. For thirteen years, when she gets the letter from Dumbledore, which triggers the flashback that is _Slytherin Girl_. Remember that? Brace yourselves; it may be a while before I get it finished and posted. And when I do, you'll like me even less. . .


End file.
